


Elegance

by Red17



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Arishok duel, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:22:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red17/pseuds/Red17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any feedback is appreciated!</p></blockquote>





	Elegance

Did she want this? Anders asked himself, to go out in a blaze of glory, have that heroic exit? It was unwise for archers to fight in close quarters so why agree to this? Kirkwall’s nobility shared that sentiment. Terrified as they were, they still managed to convey their disapproval, they all inhaled rapidly, it was a joint effort and Anders was amazed that they hadn’t leeched the air from the room.

  
Hawke was talented, her technique lacked the elegance of Sebastian’s and the efficiency of Varric’s but it was still accurate, still effective. She was deadly from a distance, more so with the element of surprise on her side. He remembered how she had squealed with excitement when her arrow travelled across a bridge before landing neatly between a Hurlock’s eyes. She had made him promise to tell Isabela when they made it back to Kirkwall and Varric retold the story in the quieter moments, when they trudged through the endless tunnels. It was the only time she had smiled in the deep roads. She didn’t like to be trapped. Anders sympathised.

  
Sebastian whispered in her ear, miming archery techniques. In hushed tones, Varric tried to tell her that the nobles were expendable. Isabela stared at the Arishok, seething. She had come back to fix this. The repercussions should have been hers. She should be the one duelling.

  
“I say we charge all of them. Go for the direct approach,” Varric whispered.

  
Hawke remained resolute, eyes fixed on her opponent.

  
“It’s one on one combat Varric, I don’t know if it gets more direct,”

  
“Hawke this is all very heroic,” Varric said keeping his voice as level as he could “But I would not bet on you walking out of here if you do this. Listen, Rivaini and I will take those two, Aveline can probably handle a few on her own-”

  
Hakwe reached into the quiver on her back, counting the arrows by touch. She lingered longest on the last one. Anders watched as she ran her fingers along the red fletch,  
“How long does it take a ship from Par Vollen to reach Kirkwall?” She asked not taking her eyes from the Arishok. “Because that’s how long we’ll have until the next invasion. If I kill him, it’s over. They take the tome and they leave,”

  
“Well there’s the crux of your problem, if you kill him. Hawke look at him, I don’t say this lightly but you are outmatched.”

  
It was then Anders realised that he hadn’t moved since Hawke had been declared Basilit-an. With great effort he walked to her, his legs heavy and slow.  
“I’m sorry Hawke,” Isabela said, her frustration was evident in her expression, she frowned and clenched her fists. Hawke was sure she could hear her teeth grinding.

  
“Don’t,” she was abrupt, angry

  
“You brought the book back, that counts for something,” Hawke smiled, the expression was hollow. “The Arishok’s the one forcing my hand,”

  
“Bad move,” Isabela said. Both of them had their eyes fixed on the Arishok, searching for a weakness “Make him regret it.”

  
“Hawke, what’s the plan?” Anders’ voice seemed small and far away. Her gaze snapped to meet his. She was so tired. Determination was all that held her together. It was strangely reassuring. She wrapped her arms around him.

  
“Tell me there’s a plan,” he said, holding on to her tightly.

  
“I’m not dying here, Anders. Not like this, I’m dying somewhere comfortable. In a warm bed. I’ve earned that much by now.”

  
He put his hand on the back of her head and pressed her closer to him. She looked at the Qunari who were now staring with unnerving intensity. She pressed her face against his neck.

  
“If there’s anything you can do to help me without them noticing. Please. Please do it.”

  
Strange how she could comfort him by begging.

  
Sensing the Arishok’s agitation, they separated. He paced the floor and the Nobles pressed themselves against the walls, some used others as shields, putting as much as they could between themselves and the Qunari. Hawke walked into the centre of the room and stood opposite the Arishok.  
With a yell, the battle began. The Arishok crossed the throne room in mere seconds, giving Hawke barely enough time to leap out of the way. She rapidly drew her bow back before relaxing the string and running again as the Arishok barrelled after her.

  
Anders watched in horror as Hawke panted for breath. Neither of them had been able to damage the other but Hawke, already tired from battling to the Keep, was fading quickly. Soon she would have nothing left. Anders healed her from a far, it was all he could do without drawing the attention of the Qunari, who now stood uncomfortably close.  
She tried again to take aim to no avail before diving out of his path.

  
“She needs more time, a few seconds to catch her breath, maybe do some damage.” He thought. He wanted to call out to her, tell her to bring the Qunari closer. She was running again looping around the pillars, changing direction quickly. The Arishok lacked her reflexes and that seemed to be her only advantage. Finally she drew him within Anders’ range.

  
Seconds after Anders touched his finger to his temple, the Arishok stumbled. Hawke had fought beside Anders long enough to know that the air changed slightly whenever he used magic. She had never quite found the right words for it but she understood that this was her chance. She whipped round, drew back her bow string and picked her target. The arrow hit its mark just below the Arishok’s collar bone. He seemed mildly perturbed by it. For a moment, Anders was sure the spectating Qunari were laughing.  
She watched closely as her opponent snapped the arrow and threw the feathered end to the ground. Adjusting his grip on the battle-axe, he set his eyes on Hawke. Hawke began to sprint.

  
She’s just irritating him Anders thought. His movements became less measured, less refined. His weapons were useless to him now, he was a battering ram.  
Keep running just keep moving. Anders begged

  
A moment’s hesitation saw Hawke backed in to the column. The Arishok held her up by the neck, pressing down with his forearm. Her arms grasped his and her legs kicked desperately. Anders could hear her gasping for breath, making choked sounds like she desperately wanted to scream but didn’t have the air in her lungs. What could he do?  
Nothing subtle.

  
He removed the staff from the holster on his back and ran towards Hawke. An enormous granite arm extended in front of him and knocked him back with tremendous force. Varric and Sebastian scrambled to retrieve him as the Qunari shouted about the laws of the Qun and the foolishness of the bas. Winded and terrified, Anders looked up at Hawke.

  
She reached across to the Arishok’s neck and twisted the remnant of her arrow. His grip loosened and she dropped to the floor before crawling away. She shook as she got to her feet, her legs barely supporting her. The Arishok was preparing for another assault.  
Anders didn’t understand how she hadn’t collapsed yet. She was losing some of her composure. The worry was etched on her face. He healed her as much as he could and hastened her movements but even with his help, she now barely kept ahead of the Arishok.

  
As her opponent charged again Hawke was unable to move out of the way and she was knocked to the ground. Picking herself up again, she clutched at her ribs and yelled.  
“Just die!” anguish dripped from every word. Her face was red and her eyes wild. Anders’ heart sank. She was losing.  
“Die? Hawke you’ve barely scratched him,” Isabela spat the words. She gripped her daggers, ready to charge at any moment, she was quicker than Anders perhaps she could navigate the Qunari blockade.

  
Something had changed in the Arishok’s movements. He was slowing and swaying slightly. The margins by which he missed Hawke seemed to be growing. The purpose with which he had moved seemed to have left him. She had enough time to fire another arrow at him before he advanced again, knocking her to the ground.  
She stared at the ceiling for a moment. She thought of Carver and a river where they had played as children. She remembered his grumpy, little face as he tried and failed to dive as deep as she could. She remembered floating and feeling so calm. She would take Anders to the coast one day. Maybe not tomorrow but soon. It was then she realised that she had been lying down, day dreaming, making plans for day trips in the middle of a duel and no attempt was made to stop her. No horned figure loomed over her, no battle-axe was poised to take her head.

  
She gripped her side again, like she was trying to physically hold herself together. She watched the Arishok stumbled backwards and saw his huge frame crumple on the steps. He spluttered and coughed. Blood trickled from his lips and pooled next to him.

  
The crowd looked on with confusion and caution as Hawke stood up, the Arishok lifeless at her feet. Almost a minute passed and still she stood in the same spot. The Qunari muttered to each other, displeased by the result. Their debate allowed Anders to move to her side.  
“Hawke?” Her eyes were fixed on the steps to the throne.  
“Hawke, look at me, love.”  
She shut her eyes and turned her head. Her lips curved into a smile and she exhaled. It was a quick, sharp sound like a laugh cut short. He inspected the cuts and bruises on her face. She would have to be thoroughly examined later. The dissatisfied Qunari began to file from the Keep. As the doors shut behind them, the nobles dared to breathe again and Hawke’s eyes opened.  
“Remind me to thank Elegant,” she whispered before her knees gave way and she collapsed into him.

  
\------

  
Servants had been sent for to dispose of the bodies but for now, Isabela was the alone in the Keep. Anders, Varric and Sebastian had hurried Hawke away after she was declared Champion. The nobles had fled to their estates, their attempts to congratulate Hawke thwarted. She looked at the Arishok, at the arrows protruding from his chest and her forehead creased. Familiar footsteps echoed behind her.  
“Only two arrows,” she said “Nowhere near the heart,” She pointed to them with her dagger.

  
“Rivaini, I didn’t realise you were part of the clean-up crew,”

  
“Two arrows and then what? The running was just too much for him? He pulled a muscle?”

  
“Do you plan on leaving anytime soon?” He walked to her side but she did not answer. She simply continued to stare at the Arishok, drawing lines with her blade between his wounds, trying to find the connection, the logic, the pressure points that Hawke had so perfectly targeted.

  
“If I tell you how she did it will you stop playing with corpses?” He crossed his arms and her gaze snapped to him.

  
“Poison,” he said, gesturing at the body in front of them. “She bought it months ago, I'm not sure this is what she had in mind but-"

  
He stopped himself and watched for Isabela's reaction. He sighed and the continued.

  
"Simple, dishonourable and quick, though Hawke probably would have liked it to be a little quicker. We taught her well.”

  
She shook her head and grinned before she began to snicker. She calmed herself for a brief moment.  
“They thought she was Basilit-an,”

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated!


End file.
